Page 5 of Chosen By the Alien (Halloween Temptation #11)

Jesus Christ. I’m kissing a fucking alien.

And I don’t want to stop.

His other hand finds my hip. He grips it like he’s steadying me, pulling me in, and my hips shift of their own accord, bringing our bodies flush.

I feel it, him. Hard. Pressed against me.

Not just an echo of my arousal, he's right there, ridged and hot even through the layers of fabric. My breath catches.

Tahl breaks the kiss, just enough to whisper against my lips. “You feel it too.”

I swallow hard. My heart is a jackhammer in my throat. “I... don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You do,” he says, brushing his nose along my cheek. “You are doing it.”

His hand slides from my hip to the front of my jeans. My breath hitches when his fingers trail over the outline of my cock, teasing it like he already knows every way I like to be touched. He palms me slowly, carefully, and I gasp, hips bucking forward into his hand.

“I shouldn’t want this. I’m not…

His lips press to the corner of my mouth. “But you do want it. I can feel it.”

He’s not wrong. My cock is rock-hard, throbbing against the denim, and the second his thumb brushes the head through the fabric, I make a sound.

Low, broken, needy. My knees feel weak. Tahl presses closer, letting me feel every inch of him.

His cock grinds against mine through his suit.

The fabric is thinner than mine, warmer, almost damp.

No. Not damp. Slick.

He’s leaking through his clothes. A natural reaction, probably.

Fuck. The thought makes my stomach flip.

My cock throbs even harder, straining against the zipper.

Every rub of his hips coats me in that warm, slick fluid, making it easier to move, more obscene.

My hands fly to his waist. I grab him, gripping tight as I roll my hips in sync with his.

We’re grinding on each other like desperate teenagers.

I should be ashamed. I should be freaking the fuck out.

But all I feel is heat.

Tahl’s mouth returns to mine, messier now, hungrier. Our teeth click. Our tongues slide. I moan into him when his hand squeezes me just right, then unbuttons my jeans with careful, precise fingers. When he unzips me and slides his hand inside, I jolt.

“Can I?” he breathes. His voice is rough. Strained.

I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak.

He pulls me free. My cock springs out, hard and aching. His fingers wrap around me and he makes a sound. Something between a growl and a sigh, reverent, like he’s unwrapped a gift he’s wanted for a long time.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

I laugh, short, nervous. “I’m a mess.”

He kisses the hollow of my throat. “You are real.”

Then he sinks to his knees.

I stare down at him, stunned, breath catching in my throat. He’s looking at me like I’m something holy. Like he’s about to pray.

“Tahl…”

He rests his cheek against my hip for a second, breathing me in. His hands hold my thighs, steadying me, and then he looks up. His eyes are glowing faintly in the low light. “I want to taste you,” he says. “May I?”

My legs tremble. My hand lands in his hair before I know what I’m doing. His texture is strange, fine, silky, but it feels good under my fingers.

“…Yeah,” I rasp. “Yeah. You can.”

He leans in and kisses the head of my cock. Just once. A soft, reverent kiss that sends a full-body shiver through me. Then he parts his lips and slowly takes me into his mouth.

Fuck.

His mouth is hot. Wet. His tongue flicks under the head like he’s studying me, learning what makes me twitch.

He draws in an inch, then another, his lips gliding along my shaft with obscene ease.

That slickness from earlier is still on me, coating me, and it lets him move effortlessly.

The heat of his mouth is unreal. I groan, fingers tightening in his hair.

He hums around me. That sound, deep and resonant, vibrates through my cock, making my knees buckle. I brace myself on the edge of the table behind me. “Tahl, shit, fuck…”

He sucks deeper, taking more of me into that beautiful alien mouth. His throat flexes, adjusting to my shape, his lips stretching. And god, the way he moves, so controlled, so fucking focused, like this is all he wants in the universe right now. To taste me. To please me.

I look down and see his hand between his own legs. He’s palming himself, grinding into his own hand while his mouth works my cock.

He’s getting off on this.

My head tips back. The pleasure is too much, raw and rising fast. I pant, hips twitching forward. His hands grip my thighs tighter, keeping me steady. His tongue swirls. He sucks. And I…

“Stop,” I choke out.

He pulls off instantly, looking up, worried. “Did I?”

I shake my head, breathless. “No. Fuck. No. If you keep going…” I swallow. “I won’t be able to stop.”

He rises slowly, face flushed, mouth glistening with saliva. His lips are swollen. His eyes are wild with want.

“I do not want you to stop,” he says.

I grab his face and kiss him hard.

I taste myself on his tongue, and it should be weird—it should make me pull away—but instead I moan. The kiss turns feverish. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation.

Our hands fumble at each other’s clothes. I tug at his waistband, curious now, needing to see. He lets me.

When I pull his cock free, I pause.

It’s not human. I mean, obviously not. But it’s not monstrous either.

It’s slightly longer, slightly thicker, a deep violet hue.

Faint ridges run along the sides, pulsing.

And it’s wet. Not just at the tip, his whole dick glistens with that natural slick.

It drips steadily, leaving trails on his thighs.

I stroke him once. He gasps, jerking forward into my hand.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” he moans. “Touch me more.”

I do. I wrap my fingers around him and pump slowly, watching the way his mouth falls open, his body shuddering. The slick helps. My hand glides easily over him, drawing more of that viscous fluid out. He thrusts into my grip, rutting helplessly.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers. “I want to be inside you.”

I freeze. My heart slams against my ribs.

His eyes widen. “Not now. Not unless you are ready. I would never…”

“I’m not…” I pant, overwhelmed. “I don’t know if I can.”

He steps closer, wraps his arms around me. Our cocks slide against each other again, wet and hot and throbbing. He rolls his hips, grinding them together. I moan. My stomach clenches. The friction, the heat, the slickness. It’s too much.

“I will wait,” he says. “I will wait as long as you need.”

I bury my face in his neck. “Don’t stop grinding.”

We move together, slower now, hips rolling in rhythm. His hands are on my ass, pulling me closer, pressing our cocks together until I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. It’s messy. Wet. Desperate.

We’re panting into each other’s mouths, whispering each other’s names, and when I finally come, I come hard, gasping his name as my cock pulses between us, soaking both our stomachs. He follows right after, shuddering against me, grinding through it with a low groan that sounds like a prayer.

We collapse together. Sticky. Shaking. My pants half off. The smell of sex heavy in the air.

He kisses my forehead.

I don’t push him away.

I just breathe.

And let myself feel it.